The (Wicked) Lord of the (Lovely) Rings
by AylaCastopolous
Summary: Maeve is released from King Irial's hold and she ends up smack dab in her favorite Fantasy Epic the Lord of the Rings. How will her presence in the Fellowship change the story? What if she catches the eye of a certain Mirkwood Prince? And, will she ever return home? Does she want to?
1. Chapter One: Maeve

**Chapter One: Maeve**

"_I release you…" _

King Irial had finally spoken the words she had longed to hear for thousands of years. Her freedom was no longer a longing but a fact. Maeve L'Eraenn was now a Solitary Faery to do things of her own accord. No longer did she have to fight for her survival in the Court of the Dark King as he watched just for amusement.

She had been human once. A Druid Priestess just finished with her training at the young age of eighteen. That was when she was stolen from her home and forced to be the dog of Irial a Dark Faery of the harshest kind. He would beat her, torture her, do anything in his power to hurt her in any way he could just for the fun of it. She had not aged since. At first she had felt out of place but with nowhere else to go and with Irial's magick binds so strong she had learned to call his Court home. As the times changed she had found ways to lose herself in the things that most comforted her. In Ancient times it was the taming of wild woodland creatures, when the Dark Ages came it had been the healing of the sick, in the Medieval Times it was singing, in the Victorian Era it had been horseback riding, but now in what was considered the Modern Age she had often lost herself in the works of Tolkien. When the Epic had been first published she was uncertain but once she read the first line she had been hooked. When times got to be their worst Maeve would fancy herself to be one of the Fellowhship. Pretend she was living with the Mirkwood Elves or the Rohirrim.

But, now she had nowhere to go and she loved it. Meave wanted to go back to the forests with her few but very personal belongings. To make a home for herself and once again live as those in the Mirkwood did. It took sometime but finally she could get far enough away from the hustle and bustle of Twenty First Century life.

She stood before a pond looking down at her reflection. She had flawless pale skin with just the barest hint of silver freckles across her high set cheek bones and bridge of her nose. Her auburn colored hair was awash with golden highlights that if let down from its bun ran down her back just until it reached her tail bone and framed a pretty face with large eyes, she had the condition now called Heterochromia, her right eye being the deepest shade of midnight blue and her left being the color of sunlight filtering through the tops of tree leaves. She was slender of frame and not that tall being less than five feet (under 152 cm), her ears once rounded like normal humans were now elegantly pointed like any other Fae and deep red lips that were not too thin and just full enough for her features. On what exposed skin she had she could see her faded red tribal knot like tattoos that symbolized her gift of magick and Priesthood. They started at her shoulders and ran down her collar bones to the tops of her breasts, down her arms stopping at her wrists and down her back where the wings of a butterfly had been tattooed on the backs of her shoulders stopping just a little past her tail bone. She actually had working wings which were rare among turned Fae and they matched the tattoos on her back. The butterfly like wings were translucent and glimmered like a rare jewel with the base color being red and the trimmings and swirling inner pattern being gold.

Though, as she gave herself this look over she saw something under that water that intrigued her. She had down her small bag of things and leaned in for a closer look. Something glittered there just beneath the surface. Suddenly curious she kneeled before the water and reached her hand in. The water was cold but it did not bother her in the least. The thing was just out of Meave's reach and as she tried to grab at it by lurching forward again she felt something strong grip her wrist and drag her in submerging her in the icy cold water.

At first she was drowning but then she was falling!? Screaming, frightened and soaked from head to toe in ice cold water as she landed hard in the middle of a small stone court yard in a very different place, surrounded by strangers dressed in the clothing of fantasy. Now more than ever did she regret her choice of clothing of a modern day teal colored tank top and dark blue jeans with her high top Converse sneakers as she realize just exactly where she landed…


	2. Chapter Two: The Council of Elrond

**Chapter Two: The Council of Elrond**

RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE COUNCIL OF ELROND!

Maeve lied on the warm stone of the dais the Council had been seated on right before the pedestal the Ring had been placed. Stunned, cold and wet she groaned as she picked herself up and tried to glance up through blurry eyes. The first thing she saw was a rather pointy looking arrow aimed right for nose. Her mismatched eyes followed up the arrow's shaft and up to the handsome face of who could only be Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood.

A quick turn of her head revealed two swords. One belonging to Aragorn "Strider" son of Arathorn and the other to Boromir son of Denethor and then her eyes slid over to well the fists of Gimli son of Gloin. His Axe already shattered by his attempted destruction of the One Ring.

The Faery visibly swallowed and stood slowly. Her cheeks flushed with the chagrin of the situation. She was all soaked in the Middle of a SECRET Royal Council called by Lord Elrond of Rivendell. She was hardly dressed for such an occasion and felt out of place. Or maybe it was the odd stares she was getting from those around her. Their faces frozen in shock though those who encircled her were rather cold as they waited for the command either to stand down or rip her to pieces. Not that they could do the latter. Steel, though a refined version of Iron did not hold as much effect as the darker heavier metal. Painful? Yes, life threatening not so much.

"Well well," started Elrond. "It seems we have a spy in our midst." He clasped his hands together and walked towards the tiny Maeve and those who surrounded her. "Tell me, maiden what is your name?" His voice like she expected it to be was deep and wise and soothing. It held none of the malice that she was sure the others would. He extended a hand for her to take as he led her out from between the sharp weapons. Something in his gaze told the Fae that the Elf Lord knew she was not a spy and had just said that for lack of a better word.

"Mae." She stated simply.

"Just Mae?" He replied and eyebrow shooting up.

The Druidess just nodded. "Yes, My Lord. Just Mae."

"May I ask as to why your name is just Mae?"

Maeve's blush deepened as she said. "If you were to learn my name then you would have control over me. You would become my Master and not my Lord. I would be forced into becoming your slave."

The Lord's shock was quite apparent on his face and it seemed he did not like the idea of anyone becoming a slave just because they knew your name. "That is quite a weakness, dear girl." He said.

"It is." She agreed.

The two were silent for a moment before Boromir spoke up. "Lord Elrond! Why do you speak so kindly to this wretch? She could be a spy from Sauron!"

"I am no spy." Maeve replied quite irritated that he'd think so. "Do you really think anyone would be so stupid as to just drop their spy in the middle of a Council?" She stood toe to toe with Boromir now. "Isn't the point of a spy to spy? Not interrupt?"

Boromir knew the tiny girl; no woman had a point. Seeing her close up he noticed that she was not a young girl as he had originally thought but a young woman. "Even so, what if that is the trick?" He hissed.

"It is no trick of Sauron's." The great Wizard interjected. Standing from his seat and walking over to inspect the newcomer. He smirked down at Maeve and said, "You are older than you let on." One of his fingers came up to trace the delicate point in her ear. "You are as graceful as an Elf, yet you are no taller than a Dwarf. Pray tell, what are you?"

"I am a Faery."


End file.
